Show Me Around
by That Guy Who Ships Niff
Summary: Rich ex-mental patient Kurt enlists the help of the help, Chandler, to murder his husband; they go on the lam and end up in Mortville, a homeless community run by a sadistic dictator known as the King and his rebellious teenage nephew, encounter many offbeat characters, and find themselves on the King's bad side. Generally Kandler with Brittana and Sebadam.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N**_: Rewrites have been done and some characters have been altered.

* * *

Modern-day New York; in the outskirts of the city lived the Hummel-Andersons: Kurt, his husband Blaine, their two kids Rory and Sugar, and Kurt's caretaker Chandler Kiehl. Kurt was your typical guy; well, unless you count being delusional and being in a mental hospital typical. Suffering from years of ridicule for being gay, Kurt eventually snapped and tried to drive off the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, but was stopped and admitted to the Manhattan Psychiatric Center, where he spent six months under watch before being released. Kurt returned home, but was distant and paranoid. Chandler was his porter at the center and continued to care for Kurt after he left.

* * *

"Blaine!" Kurt whined. Blaine sighed, putting down his newspaper and walking into the kitchen, where he found Chandler drinking from a bottle of tequila.

"Thirsty, Chandler?" he asked, hands on hips.

"You better go check on your husband. He's having another mental fit," Chandler slurred. Blaine put two fingers to his head and snatched the bottle from the blond man's hands.

"I knew you were stealing the liquor," he snapped. "See. I marked this line just last night. You've been having quite a few drinks, haven't you?"

"Ain't nobody stealin' nothin' from you, Mr. Anderson," Chandler scoffed.

"Where are my babies?" Kurt screeched. Blaine blew air out of one side of his mouth and walked upstairs, but Kurt was already downstairs looking for his two children.

"Rory? Sugar?" he called.

"Sugar, come on!" Rory complained. "Give me the remote!" Sugar held the remote in one hand, pushing her brother away with the other. Sugar accidentally pressed a button on the remote and the TV switched channels and the two children looked at the television, curious.

"What are you watching?!" Kurt screamed, entering the room and finding his two 9-year-old children watching a man and a woman having intercourse. He grabbed the remote, flicked off the TV, and gave both children a good smack before ordering them to their rooms.

"Kurt, where are you?" Blaine asked, coming down the stairs. His husband was standing in the middle of the living room, frozen. "Kurt?" He put a hand on Kurt's shoulder, only to find himself on the floor.

"Chandler, help! He's trying to kill me!" The blond ran in from the kitchen, holding a pot and bashing Blaine over the head.

"Back off, Hobbit!" Chandler repeatedly hit Blaine with the pot. Once Blaine stopped moving, he dropped it.

"Oh God, he's dead!" Kurt shouted.

"Ooh, we in big trouble now, Mr. Hummel, let's go," Chandler said, grabbing Kurt by the arm.

* * *

Ten minutes later, the two fled the house and got into Blaine's SUV. Chandler pulled out of the driveway and into the main road, driving slowly so not to arouse suspicion. A siren sounded from behind them.

"Shit," Chandler cursed.

"Please step out of the vehicle," the police officer said. Chandler got out and Kurt followed suit.

"Please, sir," Chandler quipped. "My charge is a recent release from the local mental hospital."

"I know who you are. Kurt Hummel," he nodded to Kurt, "and Chandler Kiehl, the hired help." Chandler scoffed at the term. "I received a call from your house, reporting the death of one Blaine Anderson." Kurt began to twitch violently. "What's wrong with him?"

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to mess with crazy people?" Chandler arched an eyebrow and smirked. "Officer…Ryerson? God, you look like a fucking creeper."

"I'm willing to let you both go to Mortville," Ryerson said, a hand on his gun.

"Mortville?"

"It's a place for scum like you. A place where you can all roam free in your filth. There's only one condition."

"And what might that be?" Chandler cocked his head to the side. Ryerson pulled down his pants to reveal multiple pairs of underwear. Chandler fought the urge to vomit.

"I collect undergarments from those I let pass on by. Men, women, whomever I can get. I want to see what kind of underoos crazy people wear," Ryerson sneered. "That and a kiss."

"Just look at your own," Chandler muttered. "You ain't getting those filthy lips on me."

"Impertinence," the cop snarled, "does not pay off. Now hand 'em over!" Kurt squeaked nervously before taking off his underwear from behind the car and tossing them to the officer. Chandler yanked on the back of his underwear, pulling them off in one piece.

"How did you do that?" Kurt asked curiously.

"Do you really want to know?" Chandler chuckled. The officer slipped on both pairs of underwear.

"Now for that kiss," Ryerson leered towards Chandler, who backed up against the car and felt moist, warm lips against his neck.

"Just do it," he moaned and shuddered as the lips made contact with his.

"And Mr. Hummel?" The cop circled the car and started feeling up Kurt, who squeaked in fear. "And your kiss."

"Mouth me if you must, but please not a kiss!" Kurt whined. Ryerson felt Kurt up and planted his mouth over the brunet's before proceeding to crumple to the ground, caressing himself all over.

"Okay, Officer Creeper, now which way to Mortville?" Chandler snapped as Kurt gagged.

Ryerson raised a hand and pointed west. "Keep going that way and make a right onto a gravel pathway."

* * *

Kurt and Chandler walked and Kurt bitched the whole way. "Why are there some many trees? Someone should bulldoze them down and build something useful like a hotel. You'd think those…" But Chandler slapped a hand over his mouth.

"Okay, Kurt, I understand you're upset about the wildlife, but for the love of God, shut the fuck up," he said. "Here's the gravel pathway." The two followed it and found themselves in a small ramshackle town filled with decrepit badly-made buildings and people walking around. A woman wearing only a bra was shimmying in the middle of the road. A man with an eyepatch was handing out small bottles of vodka. Chandler walked over and got one.

"Anyone know of a nice place to stay?" Kurt asked. The man pointed to a red-and-gray building with a VACANCY sign on the door. He and Chandler went over and knocked on the door. A tall ponytailed Latina girl answered the door.

"What?" She took the cigarette from her mouth. Chandler pointed to the sign and she sighed. "Fine, come on in, but keep quiet. My girlfriend's asleep." The girl led Kurt and Chandler through a dank hallway and into a nicely-lit living room. "I'm Santana. Who are you and what'd you do?"

"I'm Chandler and this is my charge Kurt. We killed his husband and ran away. A cop told us about Mortville."

"_We_?!" Kurt squeaked.

"Was it the one with the underwear fetish?" Chandler nodded. "Ugh, he was the one who arrested me a few years back."

Just then, a couple guys in blazers came through the door. "What do you want now?" Santana snapped.

"Get the newcomers. The King wants to meet them," one said. The others grabbed Kurt and Chandler and hauled them out of the house.


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt and Chandler were pushed roughly into a badly-built castle where they were led through the halls, passing portraits of Charles Manson, Adolf Hitler, and Jeffrey Dahmer.

"Get in here!" One of the blazered men said, shoving Kurt in front of a throne.

"All hail the King!" A tall man walked out and everyone bowed.

"I am the honorable King Hunter," he announced, sitting down. "Welcome to the city of Mortville, rubbish. I am your king."

"Why don't you just say it again?" Chandler muttered. "I didn't hear you the first two times."

"Silence!" The king hit the floor with a staff. Chandler scoffed and kept his mouth shut. "The big city papers have informed that you two are wanted for murder!"

"We…" Kurt started to say, but he was silenced by one of the guards.

"Don't interrupt my flow of power! When you address me, you will add "Yes, your Royal Majesty" to the sentence, understood?"

"Yes, your Royal Majesty," Chandler sneered.

"You've made yourself quite clear," Kurt said, glancing up at the King.

"Your…?"

"Your Royal Majesty," Kurt finished.

"You'll need to be made into what you truly are, trash! Take the newcomers to the ugly expert and give them back to the streets of Mortville!"

"I honor you, King Hunter," one of the blazers said. Hunter waved his hand and Kurt and Chandler were removed from the room.

"Are my royal duties ever done, Sterling?" Hunter asked the blond man standing next to his throne.

"I honor you, King Hunter," Sterling said, rolling his eyes when Hunter wasn't looking.

"Whatever. Take me to my room," Hunter ordered. Jeff sighed and lifted the taller man into his bed, which he and another blazer walked into the hall.

"Your Royal Highness, the Prince has escaped once more. We have reports that he is with that garbageman again." A blazer ran over and saluted. "Duval and Nixon have captured him and we have him locked in his room."

"That nephew of mine will be the death of me," Hunter grumbled. "Take me to the Prince's chambers!" Jeff and the other blazer shuffled down the hall, carrying the bed. A crash came from within the room and Jeff opened the door. "Sebastian!"

"What do you want?" he retorted, still holding a lamp.

"Have you been gallivanting with that scoundrel garbageman again?" Hunter demanded, crossing his arms.

"Adam is not a scoundrel, Uncle!"

"That's enough of your insolence, Sebastian!" Hunter snapped. "I am locking you in your room until your twentieth birthday!"

"But that's in two years!" Sebastian yelled, throwing the lamp at the door, narrowly missing Jeff's head. "I wish you weren't my uncle!" He threw himself onto the bed.

* * *

Kurt and Chandler, now in ridiculous outfits, walked back into Santana's abode and found her sitting comfortably with a blonde girl.

"Damn, they did a job on you," Santana remarked, laughing loudly at Kurt's trashy look. Kurt threw her a glare. "This is my girlfriend," she stroked the blonde's hair, "Brittany S. Pierce. Britt, these are the new tenants, Porcelain and…I don't remember your name."

"It's Ch…"

"I don't care though," Santana waved this off. "So you met the king, huh?" Chandler nodded. "He's a serious asshole, that king, and we'd move, but this place is all we got."

"You may like living in this trash heap you call a town, but I have very good social standing!" Kurt huffed. Santana sighed heavily and stood up.

"Now you listen to me, Sir Bitch-a-Lot, shut your fucking trap and keep quiet or I'll use your made-up hatchet face as my new punching bag, comprende?" Kurt huffed and crossed his arms.

"Santana's right, Kurt," Chandler agreed. "If you feel the need to bitch, go outside and bitch. Bitch at the air, bitch at the trees, but don't bitch at us."

"It doesn't seem very helpful if no one's around to hear it," Kurt grumbled.

"Hey, Britt, why don't you tell him your story? Maybe he won't be such a twat," Santana suggested. Brittany nodded and sighed.

"I wasn't always like this. Sure, I was dazzlingly pretty and everything, but I had a life, you know? I was married to a guy; his name was Sam and we had a baby. A beautiful baby boy named Sean. Sam named him after some actor he liked to do impressions of," Brittany said. "Anyway, one night, Sam and I left Sean with a babysitter…"

_**FLASHBACK**_

"Sam, let me drive! You'll drive us off the road!" Brittany shouted, trying to gain control of the steering wheel.

"You're drunk, Britt! You have a drinking problem. Now sit back!" Sam snapped. The Chevy pulled into the driveway as a girl threw up on the front lawn. "What the hell is going on here?"

"I told you the babysitter would throw a party, but you just believed her lies!" Brittany said, pushing the girl onto the sidewalk.

"What the fuck is going on in here?!" Sam yelled, entering the house. A boy was snorting cocaine off the arm of the black couch. "Get out of here!"

"Sean!" Brittany ran upstairs and found an empty crib. "Oh God!" She opened her bedroom door to find the babysitter, naked, and lying underneath a boy.

"Come on, Sandy, come for me," the boy moaned.

"Where's my baby, you bitch?!" Brittany grabbed Sandy by the hair and yanked her up.

"I don't know, Mrs. Evans. She's here somewhere!" she cried. Brittany ran downstairs and searched the house for Sean. She opened the refrigerator door and gasped, pulling Sean out.

"Where is he, Mrs. Evans?" the babysitter asked, running over. Brittany sat Sean on the counter and slapped the girl across the face.

"She was in the fucking fridge!" she yelled before grabbing a pot off the stove and whacking her over the head.

"What are you doing?" Sam demanded. "You can't do that to her!"

"Shut up!" Brittany screeched, rounding on her husband. "That reckless little cunt left Sean in the refrigerator or do you not care that much for your son?"

"I'm calling Dr. Waters! You need to go back to rehab!" Sam yelled, reaching for the phone, but Brittany hit him in the face, knocking him down.

"I'm not going back to rehab! I can't go back!" Brittany took Sean and fled the house.

_**END FLASHBACK**_

"That panty-loving cop found us and took Sean into foster care, but he let me come here," Brittany explained, wiping her eyes. "A few days from now would be Sean's third birthday."

"I'm going to give you a surprise tonight, Britt-Britt," Santana whispered. Brittany smiled through her tears. "That's right, you know what it is: hot lesbian scissoring."

"Okay, TMI," Chandler interrupted.

* * *

_**A/N**_: Okay, could my work get any weirder? The answer is yes, and it will... By the way, this is probably the first time I've used the C-word in a story. Freaks me out too.


End file.
